Every Harlot, part 5 Standard disclaimers. Rating, overall NC-17, this part PG The Princess' door slid open, and Lord Vengar's aide, she thought for a moment before coming up with his name, Han, stood there waiting for her. "Your Highness, the honor of your presence is requested at the docking." The formal words didn't seem to fit him any better than the uniform. She noted again that the stormtroopers were armed and he was not. She smiled at him, a real smile, not the fake charming ones. "And if you had to word that invite instead?" "Wanna come to the landing bay and watch them link this tail-heavy battlewagon? The new space station's supposed to be something to see." She smiled again. "Now that invitation I'll accept, Mr. Solo." He offered her his arm, very stiffly. She watched him walk to the lift. He moved like a man twice his age. Or one that had been badly beaten recently. She didn't recall the slow stiffness at dinner. "Are you hurt?" she asked softly. "Nothing serious. Lord Vengar enjoys sparring in the mornings, and this morning was a bit more intense than I am used to." He lied badly, she decided, slipping into the officer-level obscurationist language that didn't suit him. "You don't lie well, Mr. Solo. He hurt you. And I suspect it's my fault." "Princess, you would do well to be less observant. We're here." He led her onto the bridge, and handed her off to Luke. "Princess, delighted you could join us. My father awaits us in the docking bay." "That's a space station?" Leia gasped. "Governor Tarkin designed it. He's a genius, your Highness." The station loomed ahead, the size of a small moon. The Star Destroyer's bulk was dwarfed against it. The pilot maneuvered the huge ship into position. Lord Vengar escorted the Princess aboard a waiting shuttle, followed by his aide, and guards. The shuttle pilot landed the ship in the battlestation's docking bay with considerable finesse. The black-armored bulk of the Emperor waited for the disembarking crew, a hatchet-faced man beside him. Luke came down first and alone, his cape swirling about him like dark wings. He dropped to one knee before the Emperor. His father laid a hand on his head, and he stood. "Aweful Father, may I present Senator-Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan." The Princess walked down the ramp, and stopped at a formal distance from Vader. She dropped a curtsey calculated to the micron to be on the safe side of insolence. "Your servant, Your Majesty." "Charming as ever," sneered Tarkin from his place beside the Emperor. "Governor Tarkin." This time neither the nod nor the tone worried about insolence. "Have your aide take her to her stateroom, and tend to your things, my son. I require your report at once." Han found himself dealing with billetting flunkies and the overhelpful officers who had heard the order. The fact that he wore no rank put him outside the hierarchy, and he used it to his advantage, and Leia's. She had almost nothing, and Luke was not one for personal effects. It took a single trip to get everything settled. Leia smiled, a real smile, just for him, as he made sure her quarters were adequate. "Thank you." "All part of the service, Princess," he said, some of his old humor finding its way back from where he had stowed it. "Sorry about the guards. They aren't my idea." She smiled again, and he left her. He had nothing, not even the clothes he had been arrested in. His trousers still bore the Bloodstripe, but they weren't the old ones, comfortable from years of wear. A new uniform was dispensed daily by the autovalet, the old one having been broken into its components and used for whatever the ship's recycling system needed. Luke had almost nothing, just a holo of his family that Han set carefully in the usual place on the shelf. All officer quarters were laid out the same. He began investigating the new foodsynth, 'fresher and autovalet, so he could warn Luke of any bugs. *** "The Princess remains recalcitrant, refusing to speak of anything but the veriest trivia. Had I not been on the receiving end of her wit, I would think her too vapid to be a rebel mastermind. The plans are contained in a pair of droids, a protoccol and an astromech. They are on Tatooine and in the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi. At last report, about the time we came out of hyperspace, he was spotted in Mos Eisely looking for transport to Alderaan." "Where we shall await him," rumbled Emperor Vader. "All has played out perfectly." "Obi-Wan Kenobi? Surely he's dead by now," insisted Tarkin. "By no means. I saw him two years ago at my uncle's farm. He was quite well then." "Set a course for Alderaan. I want us there in less than a day," ordered the emperor. "This station has hyperdrive?" "Certainly, dear boy," smiled Tarkin. The other officers left, but father and son stayed. "I could have had the base location if you'd let me take a free hand with the Princess. Peeling her mind like an onion would be a simple pleasure." "She is more valuable to us functional than as a babbling idiot. I see you retain your companion." "He provides a safety valve. Why can't I take her apart?" "That would foil the dynasty. I will take her apart, leaving you as her shelter, her confidant, her last hope. When the final remnants of her life are stripped from her, she will come to you, the only trustworthy person near her. She will give herself willingly, you will accept her, and father a successor." "I understand, Father." "Make sure _he_ is not a distraction. To either of you." "Yes, Father." "I go to begin the prying. You would do well to rest and plan. You have done well, my son." Basking in his father's approval, Luke returned to his cabin. He barely noticed what he was eating, and swept his aide into his bed before dropping almost immediately into sleep.